The Hunting Network & The Angles Verse
by Pen99
Summary: A 'Hunter Community' AU where the Winchesters—aka the black sheep who kick started the apocalypse—aren't the most hated duo in the network. That title belongs to "The Angels"; more specifically a network rouge hunters run by Lucifer, Michael, and their younger brother Castiel. Updates Mondays
1. Chapter 1

"In then out." Dean muttered to Sam under his breath. "We don't give a crap about the latest hunts. And there isn't time for any chit chat, goddit? We're only doing this because we have to."

Sam huffed and tightened his lips. Dean had been reminding him of their agenda for the past few hours. His insistence was more for Dean's benefit than Sam's. After all, it wasn't Sam who found himself reconnecting with 'the enemy' every time they needed help on a case. It was inevitable. Dean spent his last decade around these people. He was a hunter at his core.

"I mean it Sammy." Dean slammed the door of the Impala. "Greet Ellen, grab a beer, and find Bobby. No distractions. We're here for the hunt. I don't care if Ruby is prancing around topless. We—"

"Dean," Sam hissed. "Hug Ellen. Snag some booze. And get the Intel from Bobby. I know. We've been over this."

"Just making sure." He paused. "We don't want a repeat of last time."

"For god's sake Dean," Sam shook his mop of brown hair. "I'm not going to apologize for Ruby. Garth was on that night and you were the one that wanted to wait for Bobby. What was I supposed to do? Sit around the hotel room and twiddle my thumbs? "

"Do I need to remind you why we're here? Here's a hint: it doesn't involve sleeping with a spawn of hell."

"Pamela." Sam muttered. "Bella. Ana. I'm pretty sure Jo's even part of that list. Do you really want to go down that road with me Dean? Because we can."

Dean scoffed.

"Bella? No way in hell. I like hunting evil sons of bitches, not inviting them to my bed."

Sam reached forward and grabbed the door handle leading into The Roadhouse. Before he could pull it open, Dean put a hand on Sam's arm.

"Just for the record, you can leave Jo off that list too. Ellen would kill me—"

Ellen Harvelle loved Dean, but something told Sam she'd have no problem chasing him off her property '45 cocked.

"Right." Sam grinned. "Probably hang your head on the wall. You'd look good right next to her set of crocotta fangs."

He scowled at Sam, but the tension Dean had been harboring for the last leg of their journey left his shoulders. For all the bitching Dean put forth, being around other hunters was comforting for him. It was always a danger nowadays and Sam hated it. He wished Dean could stroll into the Roadhouse and be welcomed with open arms. That no longer was the case. The apocalypse made sure of that. When the time came for Dean to choose sides, he threw his chips in with his brother. Not a day goes by that Sam isn't grateful for his choice. He only regrets that it cost Dean his other family.

"Ellen. Beer. Bobby." Dean repeated. "Ellen. Beer—"

The door swung open and Dean found himself faced with the first distraction of the night. The Winchester's hadn't even set foot in the bar and the universe was already pulling out the big guns.

"—Benny."

"Winchester?" Bobby reached out to clasp Dean's shoulder. "Where have you been, brother? Haven't seen you out this way since before Chambers started brining Krissy along on hunts. Has to be—what now— two or three months?"

"I've been keeping busy." Dean grinned. "What's this about Krissy? Girl's barley fourteen."

Benny looped and arm around Dean's shoulder, toeing him past the bar doors. Sam followed behind the duo, taking note of the shabby Roadhouse. The network must have just finished a big hunt, tonight it was packed. Crossing the threshold, Benny looked back and caught Sam's eye.

"Sam." Benny nodded politely. "Nice to see you."

"You too Benny." Sam forced a smile.

Things were never comfortable between Sam and Benny, but he appreciated the effort. Even if it was only for Dean's sake. That was more than Sam could say for most hunters. If they weren't downright hostile to Sam, that was a blessing on its own. More often than not, Sam was ignored. He knew that this wouldn't be the case if Bobby and Ellen weren't around.

Benny was pulling Dean past a series of pool tables and towards the bar. A few hunters looked up to see the newcomers, but upon recognition, they lowered their gaze. That was usually a good sign.

"Look who I picked up for you Ellen." Benny chuckled. "Winchester here was stalking out front. Had to drag him in myself."

Ellen set down the two lagers wedged between her fingers and hurried forward to wrap her arms around Dean. She released her grip to smack the back of his head. Dean winced.

"Two months and you show your face now? Just like John popping in and out as he pleased. What could you possibly be doing that's so—"

She caught sight of Sam.

"And what about you?" Ellen spat. "You think you can just hang back and avoid a hug and a hit. Come here."

After Ellen released him, Sam too received a blow to the head.

"Not the same." She grumbled. "It's all that hair. Boy's got extra padding. What can I get for you two?"

"Any amber you've got, and Samsquach here will have a Red Baron."

"Make that two blondes" Benny added. "Speaking of which, I saw Bella Talbot not five minutes ago. I'm sure she'd thrilled to see you again, brother."

"As much as I'd love too, I'm actually here for Bobby. Have you seen him around?"

"Not what I was thinking of for the night's hookup, but whatever floats your boat." Benny grinned at the glare Ellen shot him. "Lucky for you, Garth took the night off. He was in the back chatting with Rufus half an hour ago. Might need to put a hold on research 'till tomorrow, told the last group to take a hike. Might make an exception for you through. Singer has never been known to deny a Winchester."

"Thanks Benny" Dean nodded. "I'll see you around."

"Until next time brother. Take care, Sam."

Benny hobbled off into the crowd and Dean gave Sam a sheepish grin.

"No distractions."

"No distractions." Dean agreed. "Benny, Ellen, Beer, Bobby. Just like we planned."

* * *

><p>"No doubt about it, you boys got yourselves a Lamia."<p>

Bobby reached for a nest of books pushed up against the Roadhouse wall. He paged through a dozen bright covers, before finding the one he was looking for. Taking a swig of beer, he slid the hardcover across the table towards Dean.

"Page though that." The man grumbled and pointed to a series of crates near the door. "It's your lucky day, boys. Martin Creaser finally got around to shipping that lore from Albuquerque. Haven't got around to lugging it back to the salvage. Sam?"

Sam crossed the room and lifted the stack of texts. He could hear the rumble of voices from up the stairs. Sam closed the door to drown out them out. Bobby's place would have been a better place for research, but the hunter library would have to do.

The roadhouse basement was set up for hunters to peruse lore, place an I.D. order with Frank Devereaux, or consult heads of the hunter network with the latest cases. For years Bobby had been running the operation on his own. Then Garth arrived. The old hunter often griped about some overeager boy running his network, but everyone knew Bobby was secretly glad for the extra help. Gath took over the phone lines and weekdays at the Roadhouse, leaving Bobby to work the complicated hunts. While Garth was teaching the best way approach to salt and burns, Bobby sat back at the salvage and drowned himself in obscure lore.

Garth was more of a people person than the old hunter. The next generation seemed to appreciate his eccentric nature, and Sam had to admit the kid knew his stuff. Even Dean, who finds it difficult to be civil in Garth's presence, has been grateful for him on occasion. He's one of the few hunters that hadn't treated Sam differently after the apocalypse. No amount of irritation could deter Sam from respecting Garth.

Even so, the Winchesters preferred to consult the elder hunter. They had a history with Bobby. The fact that Sam and Dean were welcome in this building was a testament to that. In the beginning, few hunters wanted them alive. Even fewer wanted their presence. Bobby had been able to quiet their outrage and put it to better use. Confrontations were less likely to arise when he was around. Nobody wanted to cross paths with Bobby Singer.

"What exactly am I looking at here, Bobby?" Dean asked. "This book is on shifters, I thought we were looking for a—what was it—Lemhia?"

"Lamia." Bobby grunted. "It would do you boys some good to review the basics. If I'm not mistaken the two of you were hoodwinked by a siren a few months back. Best to not repeat that experience."

Bobby shot Dean a meaningful look across the table.

"I thought we were after a skin walker." Dean muttered. "There was no way I could have known that she was a—"

"Exactly my point. You two idjits damn ought to know better. I send you off on your merry way not two months ago and here you are, back on my doorstep. For God's sake you stopped the apoco—"

Sam's grip on the books made his fingers go white. They hadn't really discussed the events of the previous few years, just ignored them. Once Bobby was sure both boys were intact, morally and physically, he had sent them back out on regular hunts. The older hunter knew a great deal more than he let on. No doubt he'd heard the stories.

But still, here they were. Bobby dished out hunts as if they were any other hunters who walked through the Roadhouse doors. He never asked and the Winchesters never brought it up. Sam was afraid if they were to confirm what Bobby knew to be true, he'd no longer stand by them. They'd be left with nothing.

"Bobby." Dean warned. "It's been two years. And you think now is the time to have this discussion?"

Bobby lowered his gaze.

"It was going to be you." Bobby shook his head bitterly. "The Winchester's were the best in the business. I couldn't think of anyone that deserved to be here more."

There was a long pause before Sam spoke.

"And now?"

"And now I have Garth." Bobby whispered. "And the men responsible for the damn apocalypse are coming to me for hunting tips on Lamia. You can't blame me if I expected something more."

"What the Hell is that supposed to—" Dean shouted.

"There's nothing more." Sam sighed. "Not now, not ever. There will never be anything more. The hunter network doesn't want us Bobby. We can barley hold the tolerance they have now."

"Don't you think I know that? You boy's can hardly walk through these door without causing a riot."

"I'm sorry" Sam muttered.

"That 'aint what you should be sorry for boy." Bobby spat.

"I know."

The room broke into another tense silence. Sam walked over and placed the texts on the table. After taking his place beside his brother, Sam began to peruse the covers. He found a matted book on Greek deamon and immediately flipped to the section on Lamia.

"I'll save you the reading." Bobby muttered, now standing behind Sam. "You're going to need a silver knife blessed by a curate or priest. If that's too fancy for you, rosemary and salt will do just fine. A simple burn after that should finish it off. Everything else you need to look out for is in there. Take it with you and call if you need anything. Don't get into any real trouble. It could take a couple days for Garth or myself to reach you and since I can't send backup—"

"Thanks Bobby." Sam stood and reached out to wrap his arms around the hunter.

"It's my job." Bobby sated plainly, but there was a faint smile on his lips. "And Dean,"

"I'll try not to sleep with any Lamia."

Bobby chuckled and pulled Dean into a hug.

"I don't believe you."

* * *

><p>The boys followed Bobby up the stairs into the bar. He gave them both a reassuring whack to the back, and made his way back to Rufus Turner. For someone with such respect in the community, Bobby spent a fair amount of time in the shadows. Dean wondered if it had always been that way, or if Bobby had changed since the loss of Karen. Either way, seeing Bobby had put Dean in a better mood. The high alert he'd been all afternoon was a waste of energy. Damn, there was no way around it. He'd have to admit his paranoia to Sam.<p>

"Listen Sammy," Dean began apologetically. "I know we're on a mission and all, but—"

"—this war path we've been on was all in your head." Sam smirked. "And now you might want to stick around and have a few drinks with Benny?"

"No." Dean scoffed. "I was thinking more along the lines of Ash and Jo."

Sam nodded, hunching his frame a bit as he did so. The unasked question between them was clear. Sam wanted to know if his brother cared if he stuck around. Dean hated when Sam got like this. To him, his answer was clear. The elder Winchester would always want Sam at his side. If he didn't, they sure as hell wouldn't be working together. Not after what Sam put them through. Even with all this left unsaid, Sam never seemed to get the message.

"So, I guess I'll see—"

"You could go back to the motel room." Dean muttered. "But Jo's going to tease you about your mane, and it isn't half as fun when you're not there."

Sam met Dean's eye for silent moment of thanks. Dean fought the urge to bring their game to light. Sam didn't owe him a damn thing. His own brother shouldn't have to wait for his permission. Sam already had his approval; it was everyone else's he needed to worry about.

"She does not." Sam grunted lightly. "Jo thinks the sideburns make me look distinguished."

"We'll just have to see Simba."

From his left, the clank of glass on counter forced Dean's attention towards the bar. A short man with silver patched black hair removed himself from his stool and made his way over to the Winchesters.

"I've always assumed" The man drawled. "That the youngest of the Winchesters more resembled a moose. Damn things seem so innocent from the outside, wouldn't you say? Their stocky build and preference for greens make them positively harmless. Tricky, tricky moose."

To his right, Sam looked outraged. He was used to being taunted and coaxed into fights, but Dean very much doubted his brother had ever been compared to an innocent herbivore. A monster, the devil, and the anti-Christ, sure, but never a woodland creature.

"Who do you think—" Sam barked.

"Sam," Dean put a hand to his brothers shoulder. "This is Fergus McLeod."

The elder man glared at Dean, and to his surprise, stuck out his right forward. The youngest Winchester looked as if shaking this man's hand was the last thing he wanted to do, but Dean nudged him forward. Dean knew firsthand that pissing this man off would never end well. No matter how much the smug bastard deserved it.

"As I've told your brother countless times, it's Crowley. Can't be in my business with a name like Fergus. You need something catchy. Something my associates can roll off their pretty pink tongues."

Crowley ran his own tongue over his bottom lip and allowed his eyes to roam over Sam's full body. Crowley's lewd nature did not go unnoticed by Dean. For Bobby's sake, Dean was able to ignore it most of the time.

"Business?" Sam asked hesitantly. "Aren't you a hunter?"

"Crowley, a hunter?" Dean snorted. "More like a glorified salesman."

"Watch yourself boy." Crowley muttered darkly. "King of the salesman would be more appropriate. Although, I wouldn't call it sales in the traditional sense. I hunt down rare objects and give them to hunters at the right price. They come to me, not the other way around."

"If they come to you," Sam challenged. "Why are you stalking around hunter headquarters?"

"I'm here on invitation." Crowley grinned. "Of one Robert Singer, you might know him? Uppity old man with a filthy cap and a marvelous ass."

Crowley's words spiked venom in Dean's throat. Hearing sexual implications about the man that practically raised him was one thing. Hearing them from a douchebag like Crowley was another thing entirely.

"Crowley's helped Bobby on a few hunts in the past" Dean muttered.

"Man would be crippled without me." Crowley cut in. "Both literally and figuratively."

"He thinks it might be useful for other hunters to have access to one of Crowley's deals."

"Exactly," Crowley purred. "the reason we are here now gentleman. A deal."

Dean scowled. He had heard of Crowley's deals before. Most of the time, the man dealt in money. Special encrypted bullets or creature specific hex bags would cost you. These purchases were not for everyday cases. They were for revenge. Every hunter had a back story, and Crowley was skilled in the art of exploiting that. Dean was positive the man had a story himself, but if Bobby knew it, he wasn't sharing. Dean understood much too well. His own damn story was nobody's but his own. And maybe Sam's.

For more exclusive objects, such as alpha blood or Pestilence's ring, the price would be much steeper. These kinds of deals were paid in favors. From what Dean's heard, you never knew know when or what you needed to do, just that you were in dept. Most people who have made deals choose not to talk. Dean could imagine that son of a bitch making them doing some pretty sick things

"No thanks, chuckles." Dean said forcibly. "We're not interested."

"So quick to turn me down, Dean. You haven't even asked what I'm offering."

"Doesn't matter." Dean grumbled. "Sam?"

Sam looked as if he had been caught eavesdropping, absolutory helpless and out of place in the current conversation.

"I think I want a rain check on that drink. Let's go—"

Before Dean could finish his thought, the door of the roadhouse slammed open. Two men sauntered through the door, one pulling the second figure along with him. The roadhouse went silent as the man on the left shouted orders to clear a path.

"Bullocks." Crowley swore. "That's my cue to leave. I'll be seeing you boys later. Moose, Squirrel."

* * *

><p>With a curious smile, Crowley vanished into the gathering crowd.<p>

The crowd kept their distance from the two men, unsure where help was needed. Ellen had abandoned her post behind the bar and was now pushing tables together and beckoning the first man to lay the second one down. As the uninjured man came closer, Dean recognized his face. The two had a rather antagonistic relationship, all of which revolved around his partnership with Sam. Before the apocalypse, they had been drinking buddies. Now, both Sam and Dean were in danger every time their paths happened to cross. Dean considered grabbing Sam and high tailing it out of there, but the other man seemed to be preoccupied at the moment.

"Gordon Walker?" Ellen heaved and gestured to the second man. "What in high hell is he doing in state like this?"

"A case," Gordon spat. "about an hour North in Brookings. Damn vamp's nest was crawling last night. Come morning, when Cubric and I made our move, they were already slaughtered. Each one burnt out, by the look of it. We looked around for any signs that hunters got there before us. Thought we'd give them hell for stealing the case Bobby already sent our way."

From the back of the room, Bobby spoke up.

"Is he bitten?" The old hunter muttered. "Do we need to hunt down the vamp that turned him, or do we need to cut off his head?"

Dean winced. This was Bobby's way of asking if he's already fed. If there's any hope he can be cured.

"It wasn't the damn vamps, Singer. Just look at that knife wound. He's dead. Has been since that knife punctured his side. " Gordon turned his gaze away from Cubric to rest on Bobby. "It was The Angles. I told you we should have done something. Now look what those bastards did. "

There was a brief moment of silence when the crowd of hunters looked around in confusion. What the hell was Gordon screaming about—Angels?

"Get Pastor Jim down here." Bobby told Ellen. "Tell him to prepare a proper burial."

Bobby turned to the crowd.

"As for the rest of you, bar's closed until I return. Get your asses sobered up. Rufus Turner, Daniel Elkins, Jody Mills, Bella Talbot, and—if you're up for it, Gordon Walker—get your people together and make a perimeter around all possible temporary headquarters. If there's any hope, they haven't left Brookings yet."

Sam shot Dean a curious look, which he returned. Bobby was closing the roadhouse and mass arranging hunters. This could only end in a shitstorm. Once again, Dean fought the urge to grab Sam and run. It would cause too much attention. Dean caught Sam's sleeve and tugged it towards the exit. Sam nodded, understanding the message. It was time to leave.

"Winchesters."

Son of a bitch.

"You're coming with me." Bobby stated. "Let's go."

The Wincher's followed Bobby out front, past the crowd of curious eyes. Gordon Walker, who was still hunched over his friend, shot Dean a murderous look. Dean couldn't help feeling a little smug. Gordon had almost taken his life on multiple occasions. That son of a bitch wouldn't dare attack him now. Not when Sam and he were accompanying Bobby Singer.

"Bobby," Dean asked when they reached the Impala. "What the hell was that for?"

"They were going to see you there anyway." Bobby shrugged. "Might make it easier if I took you idigits with me. Give you less of an opportunity to start a riot."

The tense atmosphere was broken as both Winchesters and Bobby began to chuckle. Dean noticed it was shallow, but a good sign none the less.

"What's going on Bobby." Sam asked. "Who are these angles. Or what are they? You can't mean—"

"You got to be fucking kidding me," Dean scolded. "There's no such thing as angles, Sammy. No matter what your bedtime stories say."

"I didn't say they were actual angles Dean, I just—

"If you two would stop your squabbling, I might tell you." Bobby roared. "The Angel's are a group of hunters. Hunters among the likes of which you have never seen. They don't run with the network, instead they choose to do their own jobs.

That'd be all good and dandy; lord knows hunters like to keep to themselves. But the thing is—they're pay for hire hunters."

There was a moment of silence where Dean was deciding if he wanted to call Bobby on his shit. Luck for him, Sam beat Dean to it.

"That's impossible." Sam stated. "Nobody knows what we do. If they did, we'd have a pretty penny in our pocket and spend a lot less impersonating the FBI."

Bobby grit his teeth.

"You don't understand. It ain't human's that are the employers, boy. It's the damn monsters."

Dean couldn't hold back anymore. Bobby was being ridiculous. In what world would the things they hunt become organized enough to hire humans to finish their dirty work? The old man had lost it.

"Are you trying to tell me," Dean laughed. "That the wendiego's are calling up these 'Angles' to get rid of the little werewolf problem they have a town over?"

"Now listen here, smart ass." Bobby's face went red from anger. "You and I both know Wendigo's aren't capable of any form of communication. I'm talking creatures that are aware. Vampires, Shifters, Crocotta, hell even witches have been known to use them before."

"It just seems a little farfetched, Bobby." Sam rationalized.

"I know it does, Sam." Bobby grumbled. "Near didn't believe it myself. But whenever one has a problem with another, these damn Angles show up."

"Who are they Bobby?" Sam asked.

"Far as I know, it's run by a single family and their closest acquaintances. I used to be in distant contact with the head of their mafia, but word got out he disappeared earlier this year. His eldest has taken over and I assumed we'd have the same semi-alliance. I tried contacting him when he took the reins, but he refused to see me."

"Not to sound harsh, or anything." Dean grumbled. "But by the sound of it, they don't have the numbers. Why haven't they been taken care of?"

"Cause they haven't done anything wrong. At the end of the day, the hunts were taken care of. They had no protection over their clients. Didn't care if our hunters wiped out the lot of them. So long as they got their pay. We've never had a reason to go after them, until today."

"They attacked Cubric."

" Plenty 'o hunters though we ought to make the first move. Gordon among them. I knew nothing good would come from a hunter war. Now it looks like we have one, like it or not."

"Why now Bobby?" Sam asked. "After years of doing things on their own, they decide to kill Cubric?"

"I guess Michael plans on running things differently. "

"Michael?"

"The eldest brother. The sons are Michael, Raphael, Luc, and Gabriel. Raphael died a few years back. And there's another brother, younger than the rest. What did Ana say his name was Casti—"

"Ana?" Dean shouted. "Our Ana? Fire truck red, rebellious, crazy hot Ana?"

"That would be the one."

"How the hell would she know about these 'Angles'."

"Cause she's one of them." Bobby sighed. "Or was one. Never really got involved in the hunting aspect. She married into the family, and when Raphael died, she left. He never told her much about what he did, but we got enough on the faces she saw. The main family is the Novak's, probably and alias, since there are no birth records. Raphael is dead and Gabriel ran off years before their father disappeared. All that's left is three sons.

They work mainly separate from each other. Each brother has his own network of acquaintances to call from when a job needs to get done. Ana gave me the first names of some of the people who often passed though, but she never got much information. We were scared for a while they'd come after her, but I haven't caught wind of anyone so much as asking around. As for the acquaintances, they could be anyone. I guess it never really mattered before."

"And now?"

"It matters a whole damn lot. It puts into question who we can trust. And to a paranoid bastard like me, that leaves the people in this car."

* * *

><p>Dean waited alongside Bobby and Sam for five minutes before a second, third, and fourth group of hunters arrived.<p>

There were seven motels and hotels in Brookings, only three of which likely to house the Angles. Ash, with the help of Charlie, had hacked into the system and confirmed the alias "Novak" was used to check in two days ago at the Holiday Inn. On a streak of luck, the Holiday Inn was the first hotel, Bobby and the Winchesters chose to check out. There wasn't enough time to wait for the rest of the hunters to arrive. It was time to go.

There were eight of them in total. Dean, Sam, Bobby, a Sioux Falls sheriff/hunter Jody Mills, her Sherriff hunting partner Donna Hanscum, Gordon who now traveled alone, and two men Dean did not recognize. They had been the last to arrive, only showing up after receiving a call from Bella Talbot. Dean knew that Bella would be livid that her contacts had chosen the right hotel, and not her. It made his day just that much brighter.

"How are we going to do this?" Donna asked. "Scope the hotel in pairs?"

The group hunters grumbled in agreement. Dean was about to walk off with Sam, when he remember what Bobby had said earlier. The only people he trusted were Sam and Dean. Dean wasn't about to send him off with Gordon of all people. Even with Curbic dead, he didn't trust the bastard.

"Sam, why don't you go with Bobby? Gordon and I can—"

"No." Gordon nearly spat. "There is no way in hell I'm going to be accompanied by a snake like Winchester. For all I know, he'll team up with the Angels to finish me off."

Dean was sure this was going to end in a broken nose, but one of the two strangers spoke up. He was a middle aged African American man with light eyebrows and large freckles under his eyes. Nothing about him screamed intimidating, but something about him sent waves of warning up Dean's spine.

"I would not mind accompanying you, . My associate can go with the, as you call him, snake."

Gordon let out a cruel snort, and nodded at the other man. Dean was about to protest his new nickname, but the other man spoke up.

"There is no need for that. I would be content to accompany— Winchester was it?"

His words caused Dean to hesitate. There were few hunters that did not recognize him on sight, even fewer that did not know the name Winchester. Friend or Foe, everyone in the community knew Dean and Sam Winchester: bringers of the apocalypse. Everyone apparently, except this man.

"Dean." He offered pathetically. "Name's Dean."

"Alright, Dean." The man nodded. "I believe the South entrance will prove to be most beneficial. Let us depart."

"Well, that' was definitely one way of putting it." Dean grinned.

The stranger gave him a slightly confused, possibly annoyed look and walked past the group on hunters. Dean gave Sam a departing smile and followed after the man.

"So Ruby called because you were in the area?"

The stranger nodded, but did not elaborate. This guy sure was a talker.

"You working a case?"

"My partner and I were to complete the task of aiding our comrades. They have unknowingly gotten themselves into trouble. It is our responsibility to eliminate the threat."

Dean was about to write the man off a robot, when he caught a teasing sparkle in his blue eyes. There's no way anyone is really that stiff. Dean had gotten him all wrong.

"Your fucking with me, aren't you?" Dean snorted.

The man turned towards Dean with a straight face. After a moment, it broke into a smile.

"Yes, Dean. I am "fucking with you". For the record, it's all true, the part about aiding comrades anyway."

"Why?"

"Because it's my job and I don't have any other choice."

"No," Dean corrected. "Why were you all back there?"

"Who?" The man asked, convincingly confused.

" ? Star Trek? I seriously can't tell if you're doing it again."

"When you're in the business I'm in," The man answered. "sometimes it's easier to put on a persona."

"And what business would that be exactly?"

"Hunting." Castiel stated vaguely. "And since you are accompanying the head of the hunting network, am to I assume you are a hunter as well?"

"It would seem so." Dean grinned "If you're not Mr. Data, Who are you?"

"I am unable to see the connect between a fictional television show—"

"So you do know who he is!"

"—but to your assumption is right. That is not my name."

"You're one smug bastard, you know that?"

"I do, Dean thank you. And it's Castiel."

As they reached the middle of the hall, Sam and Bobby joined them from the stairs. Castiel's partner came from the left. Standing outside room 209, the five of them froze.

"Where's Gordon?" Bobby asked.

"He was keen on doing another perimeter check. He got quite forceful. I saw no point in deterring him."

Dean grunted in frustration. Leave it up to Gordon to abandon them.

"How are we going to do this?" Sam asked. "Bobby was able to get a spare card from the front desk, compliments of Charlie. Do we just—"

Sam reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun, the other hunters did the same. Sam unlocked the room as Dean and Bobby followed him inside. Castiel and his partner took the flank.

Inside the room on either bed, were two men. The closest one sighed. Turing his head, he only seemed mildly surprised to see five guns pointed at him.

"Really Cas? Uriel?" The dark haired man tutted. "A little warning would be nice."

Scratch that. Three guns. The other two were pressed into the back of Bobby and Dean's head. Damn, Dean had not seen that coming.

"This is how it's going to go." The man ginger man on the furthest bed cooed. "The big one in the middle is going to get down on his knees and slide the gun across the room. He will not turn around, or the old man and the Ken doll will find a few extra bullets in their head."

Sam did what he was told without question.

"Now said old man and Ken doll will do likewise."

On his way down, Dean felt a shove that sent him tumbling to the floor.

"Jesus _Cas_," He breathed. "Give a guy a little warning if you're going to be rough."

Face down towards the carpet, Dean felt the butt of a gun collide with his skull. Next to him, both Sam and bobby grunted. The force wasn't enough to knock him unconscious. The puff of air in his right ear told him he wasn't supposed to be.

"Don't move." Castiel whispered. "This isn't what it looks like. Something is wrong. You people have no reason for being here."

There was a pause.

"I don't want to shoot you." Castiel pleaded. "Don't give me a reason to."

Dean remained silent. In front of him, a pair of leather dress shoes and green hiking boots walked by.

"You could of texted us if we we're being ambushed." A voice from above sang playfully. "I know you're not exactly security detail, but come on Cas."

"Just give us the report." The other voice ordered.

"One unconscious by the north entrance and two locked in a storage room. All nobodies." It was Uriel speaking. "The three on the floor are Robert Singer, head of the hunter network, and Sam and Dean Winchester, bringers of the apocalypse."

Well, there it was. A little late, but better than never.

"Really?" The sing song voice asked curiously. "Do they know who we are?"

"I believe so, yes." Uriel confirmed. "The one by the north entrance referred to 'finally putting an end to those damn angles'."

"Very well." Answered the stiff voice. "We'll discuss repercussion at home. I believe we can trust Uriel to clean up this mess?"

"No." Castiel nearly shouted. "I request you allow Uriel to return home with Luficer and yourself. He deserves the rest."

"Is that so?" The other voice—Lucifer? Really?—laughed. "That's Castiel for you, putting his underlings above himself. What do you say Michael?"

Michael seemed to ponder this for a moment before deciding.

"We will meet you back home, Castiel." Dean let out a startled cry when Michael delivered a kick to his side. "This one is still awake. Do ask you see fit, little brother."

The next thing Dean knew, everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam had not expected to wake up relatively unharmed. He was unsure he was going to wake up, period. But there he was, sprawled on a floral motel bed sheet, brother squashed up against his side. Next to him, Dean groaned. He was clutching a bulge the size of a grapefruit on the back of his head. When Sam reached past his mat of hair, he found the point where the gun had connected with his own skull. What the hell had happened?

"Fuck." Dean muttered to himself. "Should've known. Cas. Who has a name like that anyway? Sounds like something straight off Broadway or one of Sam's sappy dramas."

Sam had no idea what his brother was bitching about.

"That's you, Dean." Sam grumbled. "I'm not the one that sends you out for errands every time Dr. Sexy is on."

Sam pushed himself into a sitting position, taking in the room as he does so. Bobby was sprawled across the other bed, Gordon at his side. In the corner, Jody Mills and Donna were propped up against the striped wallpaper. It appeared to be the same room they were attacked in. Once again, Sam found himself wondering how he was still alive.

"You can't prove that." Dean hissed. "Indian Springs ring a bell—No? Holy water running low and someone was overeager for a refill. When I got back, the evidence was all there. Didn't think I'd notice that the TV was on some Soap?"

Sam suppressed his laughter. He did remember a particularity small town in Nevada, and a certain request for holy oil. He hadn't, however, banished Dean to get wrapped up in a Soap. He was much too busy wrapped up in Sarah Blake.

Sam had met Sarah on a hunt up in New York earlier that year. When they ran into each other again, in Indian Springs of all places, he knew how it was going to end up. Sam didn't remember much of what happened afterward, but he vaguely recalls cuddling to some show or another. No wonder Dean had seemed so smug upon his return. That was a relief; Sam didn't really want his big brother to take pride in his sexual exploits.

"I guess not." Sam's lips curve upward "So what are we going to do now?"

"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do." Grumbled a groggy voice. "I'm gonna head back to the Roadhouse and kick back a few beers. One of you boys wake the children and tell 'em we've been had. The wool pulled right over our eyes. No doubt the sheriffs aren't going to take the news well. Don't want to even think of the state Gordon's going to be in."

The boys turned to Bobby, who was now sitting up in the other bed. They muttered in agreement.

It took a few minutes before Gordon, Jody, and Donna were prowling around, asking questions. Bobby didn't have answers for them; instead choosing to send everyone back to the roadhouse.

It was a silent ride back in the Impala. To Sam's surprise, Dean had handed over the keys and stumbled off to join Bobby in the back seat. Dean only ever handed over his keys for one of two reasons: he was injured or he was drunk. Telling from the way he plucked a bottle of liquor from the passenger side on his way by, this was the ladder.

On the ride over, Sam tried to recapture the events of the last few hours. He had arrived, with Bobby, at the same time as Dean and the dark haired man. The other man, the one with the freckles, showed up without Gordon. Sam inwardly groaned. That should have been his first clue. Gordon would never willingly abandon his shot at revenge. Cubric was his hunting partner and closest friend. Gordon was on a war path minutes before and all of a sudden he was taking extra precaution? That wasn't right.

The freckled man must have taken Gordon down and gone after the sheriffs. It was much easier to take them down individually, and Sam wonders why Bobby and himself were not targeted. Perhaps there was not enough time.

That still left Dean. Dean had gone off with the dark haired man and nothing had happened. The man could have taken Dean by surprise and came after Bobby and Sam, but he hadn't. He waited until Bobby, Dean, and Sam had been exposed to the Angles. It didn't make any sense.

Sam thought again of the name Dean had mentioned earlier. Cas, wasn't it? One of Angles addressed them as Uriel and Cas. The freckled one must have been Uriel, because Cas was the Dean seemed to have worked with. Now that he thought about it, "Cas" didn't sound all that exotic. He'd have to ask Dean about it later. So many things happened today that he doesn't understand; Sam can't allow himself to worry about minor things.

By the time the Impala pulled into the Roadhouse parking lot, hunters had already gathered out front. The parking lot was packed. It seemed as if every hunter in a hundred mile radius wanted to see what all the fuss was about. The small sea parted for Bobby as he came past, Sam and Dean in his wake.

A couple of spiteful looks were shot their way, and before Sam could warn Dean, a man cut behind Bobby and blocked their paths. Sam did not recognize him, but the look on Dean's face told him Dean did.

"Would anybody care to tell me why fucking Dean Winchester is here?" The man spit. "I just got a call, not even a half hour ago, telling me we might have a war on our hands. And the first damn thing we do is throw not one, but two fucking Winchesters into the mix? Do none of you remember what happened last time the Winchesters were asked to end a scrabble? The fucking apocalypse!"

Sam felt jolt of energy as the man's eyes left the crowds and locked on him.

"And look, he's dragged it along too—"

Dean took a small step in front of Sam to face the man. Sam fought the urge to roll his eyes. Dean was physically less intimating and yet, he still chose to take the front line.

"His name is Sam you Son of—"

"I'd suggest you both calm down. Roy. Dean." Bobby interceded, placing a hand on Dean's forearm. "We need to take action and I can't do that when the two of you are squabbling out here. Get your asses inside, the lot of you."

Ellen and Jo had removed the body since Sam was last there. All the tables in the roadhouse had been pushed along the walls to allow room for the crowd. There was only about forty of them total, but by a hunter's standard, it was an armada. Bobby pulled out a chair and dragged it with him to the center of the room. Along the way Sam thought he heard Bobby mutter something about creaky bones and getting too old for this, though he wasn't sure. Bobby eyes roamed the crowd until everything was settled down. Instead of addressing the room as a whole, Bobby found a single face in the crowd.

"I hate to tell you Rufus, but Roy's right. We've got a war on our hands and next to nothing on who we're fighting."

"What happened to 'em?" Rufus asked. "They flee before you got arrived to skin their asses?"

Bobby had to stop his lips from pulling into a smile. Sam understood why Bobby chose to pass information on this way. He was uncomfortable being in charge, no matter how damn good he was at it. It was interesting listening to a conversation seemingly between two men, when in reality it was an address of action. Rufus played his part well. Although he was directly involved, Sam felt as if he were a mere spectator.

"The Angles fled alright, but not before giving us a good bash to the skull. Recognized them too, it wasn't just one Angel, but two. Four if you count their undercover grunts. If I'm not mistaken, I just met their new leader."

"You've got to be kidding me, Michael?" Rufus asked.

"And there was another. Don't know which one, but it's one of the other sons. Didn't think they worked together like that. Usually have cronies to work alongside them. Either way, something must've come up. They didn't stick around to finish the job. Before I knew it, I was waking up in the same damn room. Free of bullets and everything."

Rufus let out a mirthless laugh.

"Your one lucky Bastard, you know that Singer?" Rufus grunted. "Angel's mustn't have known who you were. Would have skinned you alive if they had known they had the head of the hunter network in their hands."

Dean visibly flinched beside him, and Sam was drawn from the conversation. His brother was shaking his head, eyebrows scrunched.

"No." Dean whispered. "That's not right."

Sam wanted to ask Dean what he meant, but an angry voice distracted him. Up until this point, Roy had been observing silently from the crowd. He now pushed his way into Bobby and Rufus' dialogue.

"Of course they fucking knew who he was! Don't you see Michael's mocking us?" Roy spat.

The crowd whispered unhappily at Roy's words. Hunters were not the kind of people who enjoyed being teased. He continued on, energized by the others.

"These weren't some grunts, this was Michael himself. He'd have known!"

"No." Dean repeated again under his breath. "No—he said—they didn't—they couldn't have—"

"Bastards siege one our hunts and murder one of our men." Roy was screaming now. "Instead of killing him, they leave Gordon alive to come home screaming "Angles". We send out the head of our network to deal with the threat, but he's already ahead. Michael has our "leader" at his disposal and does nothing about it. He sends him back, showing us just how easy it was for him. They killed one of our own and we proved we could do nothing about it. This was their plan all along!"

"You're wrong!" Dean bellowed. "They didn't know! Cas said—"

Dean trailed off as the energy of the room died and went silent. The color washed from Dean's skin as a cruel smile began to form on Roy's lips. From the corner of his eye, Sam saw Gordon harboring the exact same look. Bobby lowered his hat and shook his head. Sam knew that look. He didn't know why or how, but those words had just cost them everything.

* * *

><p>Dean shouldn't have spoken up. One look towards Bobby's broken frame and Dean knew everything was over. He was dead the moment the words left his lips.<p>

"Cas?" Roy asked scathingly. "Are you perhaps speaking of Castiel Novak, youngest brother and co-leader of the Angles?"

"I—" Dean faltered. "Yes. I am."

The room started up again and Roy had to silence them with his voice. Bobby's head lashed up as if he just made the connection.

"Are you saying," Bobby sighed. "That there were three, not two Angles in that motel room. The one that went with you, he was Castiel?"

Dean nodded.

" Didn't you hear earlier Bobby?" Roy tilted his head. "With hearing like that, we can tell your getting old. And you didn't even recognize the third brother for what he was."

Roy turned back to Dean.

"And what did _Cas _tell you?" Roy mocked. "A time and place to bring Bobby Singer, perhaps."

Anger filled Dean's vision. He would never betray Bobby. Every damn thing he did was to protect the people he loved, and Bobby was right up that list under Sam.

"Don't pretend Winchester. We've all known there was a snake in the grass since the beginning. No one would be surprised it's you."

"That's not true." Sam spat. "Dean would never do that to Bobby. He hadn't met Cas before today."

Dean felt a great amount of gratitude towards his younger brother. Sam hadn't even witnessed what he had, and yet he was willing to back him one hundred percent. He only wished Sam's words counted for something anymore.

"Even if you hadn't," Roy leered. "—and I don't like being interrupted by beasts—the two of you seem to have had time to chat. What about?"

As much as he hated Roy's tone, Dean put out everything he knew.

"He seemed like a normal guy. Erm—not normal, but, anyway," Dean mumbled. "We break into the Angel's room and next thing we know, we have guns against our skulls. One of the Angels and Uriel knock out Sam and Bobby, while Cas pretends to knock one against mine."

"Pretends?" Roy asks gleefully. "Why would he do that? Doesn't want his accomplice to—?"

"I already told you, I don't know him!" Dean screamed. "I don't know why he didn't do it. After he pretended to knock me out, he whispered in my ear. He said something was wrong. He didn't seem to think we should have been there. Michael and Lucifer—"

"Lucifer? The third eldest Novak, Luc? How do you know he was there?"

"I heard them say his name. Michael. Lucifer. And Castiel. None of them seemed know why we were there. And he took one look at us and knew—Uriel did anyway. Uriel told them who Bobby, Sam, and I were. None of the Angles seemed to know. They didn't really seem to care, they just wanted to leave."

"What about Cubric?" Bobby asked quietly.

"They didn't say anything about him." Dean muttered. "They didn't know Gordon Walker either. I don't know what, but something wasn't right. Maybe Gordon was wrong, wouldn't be the first time. The Angles might not have—"

"So you're defending them now, Winchester?" Roy sneered. "Outcasts defending rebels, how just. The weak and pathetic have to look out for one another. Your father would be so proud. "

Dean had reached his limit. He sauntered forward towards Roy, ready to rip out his throat. Dean was cut off by Bobby.

"Enough! You will not act like damn animals in Ellen's place." Bobby's voice softened. "Dean. I want to hear more of what you remember. In private. If we can just—"

"Here you have it," Sung Roy. "Singer siding with a Winchester. Big shocker there. I deeply regret that we have put an old man in charge of a young man's game. I regret even more that he has such sympathies with the Winchesters."

Roy turned to face the crowd.

"Who else among us trust them? Have any forgiven them for the pain, suffering and death they brought upon us. Ellen, Jo, Lafitte: those who call them friends. Have you not forgotten what the Winchester boys have cost you? Will Harvelle. Andrea Kormos. Even John Winchester. Who here would stand by their side?"

The room came to a standstill. Everyone one Dean cared about had just been called out, and there was nothing he could do for them. All the names were true. Some way or another, Sam and he were responsible for their deaths.

Across the room, Dean's eyes met Benny's. He looked frightened, but determined. Benny took a step forward, and Dean's chest filled with dread. He couldn't let them do this. Jo. Ellen. Benny. Even Bobby. They shouldn't be forced to give loyalty. He won't allow them to be targets.

"No," Dean muttered. "You don't have to say anything."

"Afraid of what they'll say? I don't blame you."

It was Bobby who ended it all.

"That's enough." Bobby grumbled. "Sam. Dean. Outside."

Dean turned to Sam. He had nothing more to say, and Sam shrugged in agreement. As the two Winchesters walked through the doors and out front the roadhouse, Bobby caught up.

Bobby waited until the doors closed to finally talk.

"I don't know why you didn't tell me earlier, but I need you to now. From the beginning, Dean."

Dean told him everything. After it was over, Bobby sighed.

"I believe you—"

There was a pause where it looked like Bobby wanted to say more.

"Spit it out Bobby." Dean grumbled. "After the shitstorm we've had today, there's no use holding anything back."

"—But I got the feeling not another soul will. It might be best if you boys take off for a little while. Distance yourselves from this a bit. If you haven't noticed, things are getting hard enough to control down here, and with you boys—"

"I know Bobby." Dean put up his hands. "It's hard to be authoritative when you have the most hated duo hanging to your sides. Sam and I'll take off."

"I'm sorry, boys." Bobby hummed. "I really am."

"We know." Sam smiled. "Trust us Bobby. We are too."

* * *

><p>Benny had found him shortly after Sam had left for the motel room. Sam had called Benny to play big brother, which had made Dean's night even worse. Sam was Dean's little brother; he couldn't just call someone to take over what he could never be. He did a fine on his own. Dean was pretty sure Benny wasn't even that much older. With the alcohol swimming through his mind, however, Dean didn't actually know by how much.<p>

Right after the leaving the Roadhouse, Dean had driven straight to the nearest bar. The nearest non-hunter bar that was. If Sam was un-amused with his venue choice, he never voiced his opinion. About two hours and multiple shots in, Sam had taken the keys and booked a motel. They hadn't planned on staying in Sioux Falls, but Sam knew Dean was in no state to start their hunt.

When Benny arrived, Dean was too far gone to feel the emotions of the day. Benny tried to talk to him about what happened earlier, but he brushed it off.

Ten minutes after that Benny cut him off. He was to be sobered up before delivered to Sam, as per routine. This wasn't the first time Benny had delivered a drunken Dean to his brother. Dean assumed Benny had picked up tricks along the way.

Benny deemed Dean sober enough to crash back at the motel, and walked him across the parking lot. Dean was unable to hold us his own weight, so Benny hand slung his right arm under Dean's waist. In response, Dean hooked an arm around his best friend's neck.

The two of them had been laughing about Dean's latest run in with the siren, when things took a turn. They were barely half way through the motel's parking lot when Dean stopped walking to get a good look at Benny. The streetlights cast a strange shadow over Benny's face and Dean felt the urge to brush away the darkness.

"Dean Winchester," Benny huffed over Dean's weigh. "You best sober up, brother. Much as I love you, I don't want those lips on mine anymore than I did last time."

Dean's legs locked up, nearly causing Benny to lose his hold.

"You got to help me out here." Benny whined. "I can't drag you to—"

"Did you just—" Dean's heart hammered. "Just say–"

"That you're looking at me with those googly eyes and I want no part of it? Yeah."

Dean's chest began to hammer. Was he about kiss Benny? The honest answer was yes. It had only happened once before, and it was a long time ago. Way before all this shit with Sam and the apocalypse, but Dean still remembered.

The two of them had been icing their sprains after a particularly rough hunt. Benny had just started out hunting when he heard about possible supernatural activity in his Louisianan hometown.

Before hunting, Benny had worked for the Red Cross. He was in charge of blood drives, until his department got shut down after reports of missing blood. Dean had always teased Benny about being a vampire and hoarding it for personal use.

He called Dean to take a look, worried it might be an actual vampire. The two of them had the thing on multiple occasions, but it kept slipping away. Eventually the two had it backed into a corner, and they had a night in to celebrate. Back then Benny still had a small apartment there, so the two of them rented a few DVD's and kicked back with some beer. Dean must have had a few too many, because before he knew it, his lips were brushing Benny's neck. Benny thought it was funny at first, telling him he was so drunk he could barely support his own weight. Dean was sure he responded with some form of sexual innuendo before bringing his lips to Benny's.

He doesn't remember much about the kiss, just that it was short. Benny, for his part, had not freaked out. He had gotten a little forceful pushing Dean's shoulders away, but to be fair, Dean was pushing forward with all he had. Dean was sure Benny had laughed at one point and muttered something along the lines of "explains a lot", which makes no sense to Dean. He didn't kiss guys. This should have been as shocking to Benny as it was for him.

Either way, Benny had tucked him in and come next morning, neither of them talked about it. He was nervous for the next few days Benny was going to bring it back up, but he never did. Dean had hoped Benny had written it off to Dean being drunk. That's what Dean had done.

Benny was still looking at Dean as if he was the most adorable thing in the world. Dean hated it.

"Carencro?" Benny teased. "after those shifter attacks? Don't bother pretending, you avoided touching me for a whole year after that!"

"Yeah, I know." Dean said lamely. "It's just that—What the hell man? We don't talk about that."

Neither of them had brought it up in over the course of six years. Now did not seem like the right time for the incident to make a comeback.

"I don't see why not." Benny shrugs. "I told myself you'd come around to telling me, and I'll let you know Dean Winchester, you've kept me waiting for far too long."

"There's nothing to tell, Benny. I got drunk and must have thought you were a pretty girl of something. It's that smell, dude. Your apartment made you smell like lavender, no wonder drunk me was a little confused. Butch up a bit, man."

Benny raised an amused eyebrow. His defense was lame, and Dean knew it, but it was the only one he had.

For a year or so after that, Dean was really cautious around Benny. The two of them worked their way back into a normal routine, and everything was forgotten. Every once and a while Benny pulled Dean away from getting distracted in his features, but Benny was his friend. He can't help looking at him.

"I am perfectly butch, Winchester." Benny lowered his voice. "I think that might be the problem."

The tips of Dean's ears went red, and he immediately started spluttering. Benny wasn't implying what Dean thought he was. There's no way he'd cross that line.

"We won't be talking about this right now." Dean corrected. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Oh please, brother." Benny whistled. "You've been hot for me since the moment we met. Can't say I blame you."

Dean wasn't going to listen to Benny's teasing. It wasn't funny anymore.

"Let go." Dean shot.

"No can do Winchester, you'd fall straight to the ground."

"Get your hands off me, Benny."

Benny rolled his eyes and tightened his grip.

"Who knew six years would be too soon" Benny muttered under his breath, before adding. "Let's get you back to Sam."

Dean prayed he wouldn't remember come the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean did not end up sleeping with a Lamia. And for that, Sam was eternally grateful.

After leaving the hotel with Dean and his hangover, Sam led the Impala to a small town on the edge of Illinois. It took a while to get set up in the motel, but once Sam had everything laid out, Dean was ready to start the hunt.

Sam assumed that Lamia would fit the MO of a succubae or siren. The victims should have been younger men with steadfast commitment to the women in their lives. The only difference was the Lamia's vampiric tendencies. They have been known to squeeze the victim's heart and suck it dry.

From the start, no one fit the profile. Most of the victims had wives or long term girlfriends, but the few that were single discouraged the pattern. None of the women in their lives were connected. The boys didn't have much to go off.

Their first and only lead came on the third night—at a grocery store of all places. New Haven had only one grocery, a mom and pop shot called Little Giant. All of the men, even the ones that had been killed outside the town, had stopped by minutes before closing the day prior to their deaths.

The time window of these visits was only eleven minuets. Each victim had made their purchases from 6:49 to closing at 7:00. They all had returned to their families for the rest of the evening, but were found lifeless the next morning.

The boy's decided to pay the shop a visit, see if they could get the attention of the Lamia. Neither of them really wanted to stab the thing in a grocery store, so the plan was to lure it back to the motel.

"I've got this one." Dean volunteered eagerly. "I'm the more attractive of the two of us anyway."

Sam rolled his eyes and reached out to slam the car door in his face.

"We have to do what's best for the case, Sammy." Dean teased. "Even if it means I need to be eye candy monster bait."

Dean was only in the store for three minutes, but Sam was on alert the entire time. He needed to be ready if things went south. Fortunately, Dean retuned with an agitated grunt and an extra eight minutes to seven.

"Well, how does this thing work?" Sam asked as Dean sank into the Driver's seat. "Did she give you her number, or is this one of those 'follow you back to your house' kind of deals?"

Dean reached into his newly acquired Little Giant bag and tossed a wrapped big pretzel onto Sam's lap.

"No number. No chick either." Dean ran his thumb over his lips. "Just some—er— guy working the cash."

"Was there anyone else there?"Sam questioned. "Did you ask him if anyone—?"

"No. I—er—forgot to ask." Dean muttered. "There wasn't anyone else there, or at least I don't think so. Maybe? I actually really didn't—"

"Are you telling me," Sam huffed. "You just walked into the store, bought a big pretzel, and left."

"Hey," Dean argued. "If you don't want it—"

"Unbelievable!" Sam shouted. "I get it that your feelings are hurt. That the thing didn't pick you, but there's still eight minutes left. We have a job to do."

Sam got out of the car and pushed past the glass front doors. All his anger with Dean melted away when he saw the cashier at the front counter.

She was a genuinely beautiful woman. Natural looking, with a thick black hair twisted up into a bun. Upon first glance, she reminded Sam a bit of Ruby. After meeting her eyes, the kindred curiosity reflected back told him otherwise.

After being stunned for half a second, Sam's instincts kicked in. His eyes scanned the room for the man Dean had mentioned, but the women appeared to be the groceries only occupant. Sam had no doubt the woman was the Lamia, perhaps she had been the back room while the man rung up Dean's pretzel. Another glance around the room disproved his theory. There was only one room.

"Hey there giant." She grinned playfully. "We're about to close up in a few minutes, so no dawdling. If you're looking for golden eggs, I'm afraid we're fresh out."

Sam approached the counter warily. The woman did not appear to be a threat, but every instinct he had was screaming danger.

"Thanks, but no." Sam smiled tentatively. "I was just wondering where you keep your fresh produce."

"Aisle nine." She prodded her head to the left. "Feel free to browse while I lock up. What's the deal anyway? Couldn't wait till morning to stock up on the emergency lettuce supply?"

Sam couldn't help laughing. "Something like that."

He strolled through the fresh produce aisle and, because she had tempted him, picked up two tomatos and a head of lettuce. He turned towards the cash to check out, but she was not in sight. Sam frantically spun around and heaved a sigh of relief when he spotted her behind him an aisle to the left.

"I don't know what it is about you, but you look familiar." She grinned. "Did you grow up around here?"

"No." Sam stated bluntly. "and I'm—er— ready to check out."

He followed her back to the cash, trying not to take joy in the subtle once over she gave him. This woman was almost certainly the Lamia. He wasn't going to go there.

"So if you're not from New Haven, and I'm guessing you don't live up a bean stalk in the clouds, what are you doing here?"

"Just passing though." Sam pushed the produce on to the counter. "I booked a motel room for the night."

Sam knew that it was not a good sign when her face immediately lit up.

"Is that so?" She checked the cash register. "That will be thirteen thirty two."

He handed over his card.

"So, Henry, is it?" She asked coyly, reading the name off his card. "All these years I've been biased. I've never considered giants to be attractive, but you've gone and proven me wrong. You're Fee-Fi-Fo-and then some."

Sam burst out laughing. Lamia or not, this woman was enduring.

"I can't believe," Sam said between gasps. "That you actually said that."

"Oh, God." The tips of her ears were red. "Me neither. Though, the only thing you've given me to work with is your name and height. Perhaps you gave me the chance to learn more?"

That sounded a lot like she was asking him out. Sam had to stop is heart thumping in his chest. Nothing about this woman was real. She was just trying to raise his pulse, literally.

"Are you asking me out?" Sam asked. "I'm only going to be here for the night."

"That's alright." Her lips twitched. "There are quicker ways of getting to know someone."

Sam told the woman he was staying in room 29 on the motel on George Street. In return he found out her name was Abby. She promised to stop by later that evening before kicking Sam out of the shop.

When Sam returned to the car, a pissed Dean was waiting for him.

"What the hell, man?" Dean shouted. "You were in there for almost ten minutes. I was about ready to drag you out myself."

" Ab— I mean the lamia was there. " Sam sighed. "She wants to—"

"What!?" Dean interrupted. "Where was she hiding? All I saw was the guy—"

Sam was torn from his Abby induced haze. He had forgotten about the man.

"Dean." Sam said firmly. "There wasn't a guy, I checked. The only person in there was Abby."

"Impossible." Dean shook his head. "You must have been distracted, that's all. The thing was working her siren-like charm and messing with your head."

"I strolled past every aisle. He wasn't"

"Come on!" Dean shouted. "Dark hair. Deep voice. And these eyes, man I—"

Dean cut himself off and immediately went silent. It took him a moment, but Sam caught on pretty quick. It couldn't be. Could it?

"She looked like Ruby," Sam said calmly. "but with Jess' face. Snarky, yet sweet. Just like Amelia."

Silence.

"Everything I find most attractive—"

"Shut up Sam."Dean barked maliciously.

Sam was tempted to drop the subject, but he was rather curious. Was there something Dean was not telling him?

"I just mean…Do you think that maybe—"

"I said that you should shut the Hell up Sammy."

"Dean, you know I wouldn't—"

With a squeal of the brakes, Dean violently pulled his car to the side of the road. Once the engine was off, Dean refused to meet Sam's eye.

"It's not like that." Dean whispered. "I'm not like that. You—know—me—Sammy. You know me fucking better than that."

There was a pause before Dean's head shot up towards his brother. His voice was much more forceful this time.

"You will never bring this up again. Do you understand? I gave up everything for you, and this is what you do for me?"

Sam stopped breathing. He knew exactly how much he owed his older brother. Dean deserved his trust. No matter what evidence said otherwise, he would believe Dean.

"And now you're accusing me of being what? A fucking faggot? Jesus Sammy, Dad didn't raise his boys to take it up the a— "

"Dean." Sam cut him off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

They sat in silence before Dean started the engine back up. His tone was much lighter with his next few words.

"Well Sammy, it looks like Bobby owes me an apology. I'm not going to be screwing the Lamia after all."

* * *

><p>Back at the motel, Dean's head was swimming. Sam hadn't said anything since Dean's outburst earlier, and Dean was starting to regret his words. He shouldn't have accused Sam of owing him, that wasn't fair. Dean was just overwhelmed. The thing that happened with Benny earlier that week was already messing with his brain. This incident was just making it worse.<p>

Dean wondered how this was even possible. Lamia, by definition, were women who feasted on the hearts of men. Emphasis on women. Even if they could be men, they would never appear that way for Dean. Dean's fantasies included busty Asian women. Not men with sex hair and glowing skin. He wasn't gay for God's sake! He'd kissed a man once. That was it.

But even as he thought it, Dean knew that wasn't entirely true. He thought back to his three minutes with the Lamia. Dean had strolled in, hopes high to meet a sexy beauty, and felt his shoulders sag when it was a guy was sitting behind the counter. The guy appeared to be humming something, headphones dangling from his ears. Dean approached the counter and cleared his throat.

When the man looked up, Dean was met with violent blue eyes. He was a damn good looking guy. No, Fuck that. This guy was fucking gorgeous.

It took a moment for Dean to realize the man's eyes went straight to his waist band. Dean shifted uncomfortably, and the man's lips formed a little "o" as he tugged out his ear buds. He put his hands up in surrender.

"You have less than ten minutes," The guy grumbled. "But by all means, rob me of everything I've got."

_What?_

Dean's confusion must have shown on his face, because the guy's eyes fixed back to his beltline. Fuck—his gun.

"I'm not going to—" Dean mused. "No, this is for—not robbing local groceries."

The man seemed to relax, but he eyed Dean warily. Dean had nothing else to say, so he faced the register in silence.

"Is there something I can do for you?"

An array of filthy things flashed through Dean's mind.

"I—er—what?"

"You've already assured me you're not going to take my money and have your way with me. And might I say, job well done." The man smirked sarcastically. "But since this is a grocery, I'm going to assume you didn't come in here with the sole intention of waving that thing around—so what can I do for you?"

Dean lost focus for a moment. The guy was waiting for him to say something. Why was he there? Obviously Dean was here for the Lamia, but he couldn't tell Mr. gravel voice that.

"I just—wanted to know how much a soft pretzel cost."

"Two fourteen." The man deadpanned.

"I'll have one of those."

The guy looked as bewildered, but rung up a big pretzel none the less. Dean thanked him and made his way towards the door. He turned around to look around for the Lamia, but his eyes fell on to the guy at the register instead.

"It's funny." The man grinned. "When you walked through the door, I was intrigued. I have to say, I didn't expect this from a guy like you."

Dean didn't know what to say to that.

"The gun I mean," The man clarified grinning. "You just didn't fit the type."

Dean was almost out of earshot when the guy muttered—

"Would have been interesting though."

Looking back, Dean should have known the guy was the Lamia. Sam's description of his addiction to the woman convinced Dean. Dean too had been intrigued.

This thing was supposed to lure men with beauty. No matter what form it took, the damn thing was a temptation. It wasn't Dean's fault, it was the Lamia's.

_"I didn't expect this from a guy like you."_

Fuck. There was no denying that one. Dean chose to ignore it instead.

"I've got the silver knife." Sam finally spoke. "I'm going to be up close and I'd be easier to stab it. You're in charge of the rosemary and the salt. Once the thing is stunned, we light her up."

Dean nodded absently, while Sam cleared his throat.

"Rosemary works on Lamia because it identifies the false feminine beauty and rips it apart. I'm not sure if it would still work if the Lamia happened to be in a more—um—masculine form."

Dean felt his face heat up as a surge of anger passed though him.

"Um— just in case, you know, the thing decides to change or something. They usually don't do that, but this one already isn't sticking to a usual MO. Maybe we just got a dud."

"That's probably it." Dean grumbled.

He knew neither he nor Sam really believed that.

Dean resigned himself to wait in the closet until the Lamia showed up. The irony was not lost on him.

It was strange waiting around while your brother seduced a monster. After a few minutes of barf inducing flirting, Dean heard a gasp that was far from orgasmic. He burst from his hiding spot, dousing the monster in Rosemary and salt before setting it aflame.

As the thing burned, Dean remembered the form it had taken in the grocery store. He couldn't remember, but the likeness it took seemed familiar. The Lamia reminded him of some of his favorite male actors and performers, but there was something else too. A likeness of someone he knew. He just couldn't put a name or a face.


End file.
